Collecting You
by gypsy season
Summary: Wicked Fic: As years went on, Glinda found it harder to connect with her past. But the past is about to come back, and they need eachother more then time can tell.
1. Emeralds and Shadows

Collecting You

By gypsylemon

Author's Note: Yes, I know there's also a book, which I read, but this fic takes place at the end of the Broadway play. Even so, it adopts many aspects from the book, so in a way it's a crossover/AU.

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me except the ideas.

Chapter 1: Emeralds and Shadows

Glinda was never a light sleeper, a trait her parents boasted that she possessed from the day she was born. But on one particular night she found herself waking to the still moon-lit evening sky. She found herself in the same position as she had fallen asleep in that night after an exhausting day in the city.

The previous day was the third annual celebration of the death of the Wicked Witch of the West. All of Oz, it seemed, was dancing in the streets, throwing confetti out their windows, singing, drinking, partying and making merry. Of course, with her high social rank, Glinda couldn't just stay in her apartment and spend the day alone; she had to attend the festivities. An old friend from Shiz had reserved a booth to watch the parade, so Glinda couldn't say no, nor could she refuse an invitation to the theater and an evening ball afterwards from those just as high as she on the social ladder.

Of course she had taken a flute of champagne each time a service boy had walked by, to dull the pain of loss, she admitted to herself. But the alcohol had taken the edge out of the parties, making them seem to breeze by in a blur of floats, balloons, faces and food; porcelain hands matched the equally porcelain toilet bowl upon Glinda's return to her room, where the latter of those four was forced out with painful heaves. This was why she had never been all too fond of drinking.

But an event like this called for a celebration, because it was, after all, a celebration. The most sick, unnerving funeral party Glinda had ever attended. She seemed to be the only one that wasn't happy that day, but no one seemed to notice. Perhaps they were all as drunk as she was, for it seemed absurd for anyone sober and of sound mind to celebrate the death of the kindest, most caring woman that Glinda ever had the opportunity to befriend. Her only friend that mattered didn't matte to anyone else but she.

So she lay there, staring up at the chandelier hanging over her head, giving her the feeling that she was under surveillance, despite it's crystals and man-made beauty. Elphie would have loved it, Glinda thought. She would have loved to trace it's winding patterns and pathways and twists and turns with her eyes.

Over the next couple of weeks, Glinda did very little. She slept, she ate, she read, she fell ill and summoned for a doctor, who prescribed medications and bed rest. The weak woman could find no strength to protest, had she ever the want to protest such a blessing. She had meals and tea brought to her each day by a small, young-looking servant girl who said nothing but curtsied excessively.

Sometimes, Glinda would see Elphaba dancing on her walls. The cruel shadows and lights would play with her, twisting on and on into the form of her green-skinned friend. With every cough issued from the blonde's small frame, her Elphaba would wince and withdraw into the night the way a turtle would abscond into it's shell. And sometimes Glinda would cry for allowing her most precious gift to leave her.

One night, Glinda remembered that Elphaba had requested that she flew away with her, and she had refused.

After what seemed like long enough, Glinda found the strength to stand up and move about. She didn't see any more shadows of her long lost friend dancing across her walls, but she did see many visitors and well wishers, all carting in masses of flowers whose colors lit up the room and hurt her eyes. To her, it seemed that her guests were more interested in decorating her apartment then seeing her.

On a particularly stormy afternoon, the servant girl came with lunch and word -her first, to Glinda- about a stranger waiting outside. "She said she had to speak with you."

Glinda's heart soared and as she sat up, she felt her cheeks flush with color once again. "Where is she? Have you shown her inside?" Words were too slow, she had to know. Could this possibly be her long-awaited Elphaba, returning from a life, not death, spent in hiding?

The servant girl shook her head. "I bid her to wait outside until I saw you fit for visitors."

Foolish girl! Glinda could hardly hold her eagerness, and agitation. "Did she give a name?" The girl shook her head. How very like Elphaba to do such a thing. "Tell me, did you see her face?" The girl shook her head once more, and Glinda couldn't bear the wait any longer.

"Have you gone mad? See her inside! Quickly, now, before she catches a cold in this miserable weather."

Outside the windows, dark clouds rained on the Emerald City. But naught felt as dark as Glinda's heart when the servant girl led the visitor inside. Her face remained unseen behind a hood, but she clasped her gloveless hands together, wringing them nervously. Pale, white hands.

Those hands came up to remove the hood, but Glinda looked away. The woman spoke, but Glinda would not listen; she couldn't even hear more then the sounds of rain hitting the pavement outside, the little sounds magnified by the emptiness of everything else. Though the stranger spoke of the death of Frexspar the Godly, Glinda felt no grief but that caused by her visitor's identity.

When she made no sign of recognizing this strange woman, the visitor bowed her head and pulled up her hood, bid Glinda good day and left.

Glinda's heart shattered and she collapsed against her pillows and sobbed.

As time went on, months melted together to form a smooth, numb path to the future, a path that Glinda had no hopes of escaping for she could find no roads to the past. But she took note that the fourth annual celebration of the death of the Wicked Witch of the West was a mere five days away. People still rejoiced in Oz's freedom from Wickedness, but for the most part it was the celebrations that held most citizens' interests.

Clubs, pubs and anywhere that had a table and a chair and some source of entertainment were getting ready, decorating their walls and windows with black and green streamers and candles. It was like Lurlinemas gone horribly wrong.

So that night, five days before the celebrations began, with everyone busy preparing, Glinda never expected someone to come knocking at her door. She slipped into a robe so she wouldn't catch a chill in just her nightgown from the breeze outside, quickly touched up her golden curls so she didn't look too unruly, and pulled open the door.

Glinda recognized the figure at once; black, torn rags draped over skin to match the buildings around them. With a cry of delight, pain, pleasure, surprise, fear and curiosity all in once, she flung her arms around Elphaba, sobbing onto the woman's shoulder. Her cries would surely be heard by neighbors, but Glinda made no move to suppress them. Simply nothing could suppress her now.

As the smaller woman cried, Elphaba did not speak, did not move, and did not cry as well. She stood like a stone, but real, or more real then any dream had ever been. Glinda had no time to doubt what she saw - she felt the woman's flesh beneath her, the limbs shaking from the cold, the head bowed low. The blonde felt the warmth of a fire that was thought to have died out.

"Elphie…Elphaba…" She murmured into the coarse, black fabric between sobs. No matter how tightly she squeezed her eyes shut, fat, salty tears still slipped out and slid down her cheeks, so she abandoned cares and pulled herself away for just an instant to look at her friend for the first time in years. She kept those green hands clasped tightly in hers.

Elphaba had always been skinny, but her college figure was nothing compared to now. It looked as if she only had flesh enough to cover her bones and insides, nothing more. She had grown even taller, but she stood slightly hunched over, like she was carrying a weight. She made no move to touch her friend, or even look at her for that matter. The floor might have been hypnotizing her, for all Glinda knew, before loosening her grip and giving the woman room to breathe.

She let go of one hand and brought her own to caress Elphaba's cheek; though her touch was light as a feather, Elphaba shuddered. But she turned her gaze upwards to meet the blue eyes of her friend, and for an instant she almost felt safe before her knees gave out and she landed hard on the marble floor.

Glinda dove for the body, but was not quick enough to stop it from hitting the floor. She let out a small whimper before dropping to her own knees, checking for a pulse. She found one, and cupped Elphaba's face in hers. She spoke her name sharply, her voice thick with worry as well as the shock of seeing Elphaba alive, and in her apartment! The woman remained limp on the floor, so without second thoughts Glinda hooked her arms under green ones and pulled her across the floor.

The marble was smooth and posed as no obstacle, and when Glinda lifted Elphaba onto her own bed almost effortlessly, the woman's light weight pushed her worry even further.

She brought back an extra blanket, a heavy one, and covered Elphaba with it. Knowing not what to do next, Glinda reached forward attentively, resting her fingers on the woman's green brow and brushing dark hair out of her way. This was Elphaba, her Elphaba, alive, maybe not well, but real. Again, she brushed her fingers across Elphaba's forehead, back and forth.

On their own accord, her lips whispered a small prayer to the Unnamed God to keep Elphie safe, and with her. She prayed that the reason for the green ghost's return was not something tragic like almost every happening in Elphie's past.

After watching - watching the bruise form on the green cheek where it struck the marble, watching the rise and fall of Elphaba's chest, which was the only motion that came forth from the otherwise corpse-like body - for what seemed like days, Glinda lay down on another pillow, curled up on top of the blanket and prayed one last time; for her Elphaba to be real, and to not disappear when she closed her eyes.


	2. Watching and Waiting

Collecting You

By gypsylemon

Author's Note: Yes, I know there's also a book, which I read, but this fic takes place at the end of the Broadway play. Even so, it adopts many aspects from the book, so in a way it's a crossover/AU.

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me except the ideas.

Chapter 2: Watching and Waiting

Elphaba slept for two days without waking. It was as if she was in a coma, but Glinda made a wise decision to not call for a doctor. The green woman's own death was just about ready to be _celebrated_. Having someone see the Wicked Witch of the West alive, in the home of Glinda the Good, would start an endless and dangerous commotion. So Glinda kept her mouth shut, except to talk to Elphie, even though she knew the sleeping woman couldn't hear her.

She did her best to stay awake to be ready for Elphaba when she woke; she ordered in meals and met the delivery men at the door to keep them from entering. A charming smile, a couple of coins in exchange for bags of food, and Glinda was left alone once again to breathe a sigh of relief.

At every meal, Glinda would try to wake Elphaba from her slumber, but she seemed to be in so deep a sleep that if an earthquake had ripped the city in half, she might have slept through it. She looked worn down, weary and ill, so the blonde woman saw it best that she got all the sleep she needed.

During the day, she would sit and watch the sleeping woman and wonder what she dreamed of. She studied her body, the dull green color of tight skin, dark bags beneath closed eyelids, chapped lips. Badly healed scars that looked almost black marred her green limbs, as well as painful looking half-healed wounds. Glinda took advantage of Elphaba's slumber to clean them with a healing salve she had bought some time ago, not water, and dress them.

At long last, Glinda finally had what she wanted; a friendship just and true. Her Elphaba had come back from the dead, or so it seemed, and right to her door. She wanted nothing more then to hold that slight green body in her arms for all eternity, speak until every possible word would have been said, with none left to spare. Glinda wanted to memorize every inch of Elphaba's body so that if she closed her eyes, she would see the other woman, true to every detail.

It was around midday when Elphaba finally awoke; Glinda, who had begun to nod off in a nearby chair, was woken when a muffled cry reached her ears. She jumped, glancing at the bed to meet eyes that were wide with fear and something else, a feeling that had not yet been named. "Elphie, what is it?" The green woman was sitting up, breathing in sharp gasps, and said nothing.

She seemed to be in a state of disbelief, eyes darting about in a frenzy, as if looking for attackers hiding behind furniture. "It's ok," Glinda said softly, sitting down beside her on the bed, reaching for her hand. "You were only dreaming." She took the green hand in both of hers, to supply warmth and comfort and whatever she needed that Glinda could give.

Slowly, but surely, Elphaba relaxed and held onto Glinda's hand with a weak grip, pulling her eyes away from the wall and training them on the vision sitting beside her. Glinda, ever the stunning one, was just as stunning as ever. Sharp cheekbones, thin, delicate eyebrows, lips set in a small pout and eyes that shone like the stars. But as they shone, something lurked behind them, a look Elphaba was too exhausted to recognize.

Glinda scooted across the bed so she was touching her pale arm to Elphaba's green one; Elphaba flinched. The smaller woman wanted to take her in her arms and make both of them feel alright. It took two days of the green figure unconscious in her bed to convince Glinda that she was actually real, but why? There must have been a reason that Elphaba left that little girl, Dorothy, and the rest of Oz, and was assumed dead, but the reasons were far from superficial.

Pale, thin fingers yearned to touch, to pull the other body close and hold it against hers. They wanted to extract a reason as to why the two of them, after all these years, were finally reunited once again. Of course, she wasn't complaining, but she had always been curious. "Elphie…what happened?"

Elphaba pulled away sharply and swung her legs over the bed and turned her back to the other woman. Her head sank lower until it met her hands, and her shoulders shook with dry, silent sobs. She stood, swayed on her feet and nearly fell, had it not been for Glinda, who caught her arm. The small woman possessed more strength then what she appeared to, and half lead, half carried Elphaba, stumbling along behind her, to the kitchen. "You hungry?" She asked once Elphaba was back in a chair.

As hungry as they both were, neither of them ate all that much of the meal Glinda had ordered for them. Elphaba looked even worse than before, lost, weak and depressed, so Glinda started telling stories about the past few years. The green woman watched her closely as she talked, taking note of small details, like how her eyes shone brighter with every happy story but dulled a little when she came to a sad part.

She used her hands a lot too, gesturing to invisible people at her side when she spoke of individuals, giving Elphaba the idea that there were others in the room with them. But as the stories came closer to the present, Glinda made less and less gestures to invisible folk.

Her gold curls were cropped short to fall right above her shoulders so they bounced with each step she took, flying around when she turned her head. But as social and popular as Glinda was, she didn't have many friends; She was very lonely. It was a feeling that was new to her, since now people had lives and didn't idolize and worship as they did in their younger days - except, of course, to Lurline or the Unnamed God.

"And now, here I am." Glinda said with a grin and a sigh, letting her hands fall into her lap. She had said nothing about the stranger that had come with news of Elphaba's Father's death, not wanting to set any new worries on the suffering woman. "So, tell me about you."

"I can't." Elphaba said instantly, like a reflex. It was the first time Glinda had heard her speak since she arrived two nights ago and the weakness in her voice made the blonde wonder what had happened during the long space of time between her supposed "death" and now.

Elphie looked troubled, eyes pleading Glinda to say no more, so she shut her lips and did just that. For now. Later, she would ask again, when Elphaba was better. For now she reveled in the presence, however silent, of her long-missed friend. It was like she had come back from the dead.

"Elphie, wherever you went," Glinda got up to clear the table, "I really missed you. Wherever you were, I just want you to know that."

Green arms unwrapped themselves from an equally green, emaciated torso and took Glinda's hand as she walked by. "Me too." Elphaba whispered, and Glinda smiled. 

That night, Glinda curled up in a chair once more; Elphaba was in her bed, and her eyes were fixed on the chandelier hanging overhead. "It's pretty." She said later, shutting her eyes and falling asleep almost instantly. Glinda smiled, looking back up at the chandelier she had know the green woman would love all along. In any world, however dark and gloomy, there always had to be something to love. No matter how simple; never could everything be terrible.


	3. Oh What A Celebration

Collecting You

By gypsylemon

Author's Note: Yes, I know there's also a book, which I read, but this fic takes place at the end of the Broadway play. Even so, it adopts many aspects from the book, so in a way it's a crossover/AU.

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me except the ideas.

Chapter 3: Oh What A Celebration

Since Elphaba fell into another deep sleep, the next two days were filled with silence, at least for Glinda, but as the first day went by, she noticed the word 'coma' might have possibly better-described Elphie's sleep. She stayed in the same position she lay down in the night before and did not move unless moved. Her breathing was light and silent and for one terrified minute, Glinda thought her dead.

But she proved to be alive and still tormented by god knows what when, the next day, she woke with a scream. Glinda stood by her side and held her hand, brushed her hair out of her face and whispered soothing words until it calmed her. But the remnants of Elphie's last sleep haunted her, and she spent the rest of the day in a fearsome silence that hung like mist over a dark wood.

Glinda had coaxed her into eating a little, though she had tried to refuse. Did she think her friend an enemy? The very thought seemed to taunt the blonde, deeply bothering her. She spoke to Elphie but green lips did not respond, though they twitched each time the blonde said something thoughtful, and a green head sometimes shook with the frustration of keeping silent. She just couldn't find any words at all.

She was like Dillamond; an Animal that had forgotten how to speak. The very thought had confused Elphie in her school days and she doubted she would ever understand just how someone could forget what they were born doing. This rang all too familiar with her past and gave her pains in her stomach that overshadowed the other pains of weakness and all else.

That night, the fourth night, Glinda closed each and every curtain. She swept the entire apartment, abolishing any cracks that could expose the horrors that were to take place during all of tomorrow. 

Elphaba looked so small sitting in the chair by the window, her slight body dwarfed by the magnificent drapes that hung like blue rivers over the windows. Glinda had shut them to keep from upsetting her friend, but green fingers made a spot for curious dark eyes to look out from. "They're celebrating my death." She said, sounding almost amused with the idea.

The blonde did not doubt that if Elphaba were well, she might just have done something to turn the tides on this year's celebration. Her eyes moved back and forth, slow like a pendulum, soaking in every detail that passed by. They seemed to widen as to drink in everything as if she only had a limited time.

She knew she shouldn't have spoke on the matter, but Glinda simply could not keep her mouth shut any longer. Try as she might, words slipped out on their own accord. "But Elphie, you didn't die." Obviously, a very wrong thing to say. "You're not dead."

A small hand came to cover her mouth in shock and fear of the range of possible outcomes her statement may bring. Elphaba turned away from the window suddenly as if the sights outside had burned her eyes. Her fists clenched in her lap and her eyes seemed to darken. "I may as well be." She said bitterly before straining with the effort of pulling herself out of the chair. Using the wall for balance, she left the room, it seemed, as fast as she could possibly move.

All these memories were flying back like her monkeys, gratuitously returning to their master's shelter. But it was unfired! It was unwanted! She clasped her head in her hands and moaned, struggling to forget, fighting her memories.

Glinda walked in soon after; seeing Elphie, leaning all her weight against the far wall, the blonde ran to her. The suffering woman held her head in such a way it appeared that if she were to let go, her brains would burst out of their green cage in one last struggle, a suicide ride.

This seemed all too familiar with their college days; for the blonde pretty girl prying the green recluse for secrets from her past as if history, however tragic, it was just a game to play, just another little secret and that's that. This seemed to mock those days, fierce and taunting, a pointing finger that wouldn't go away, a laughter that would never cease and Elphaba was to blame.

Without an ounce of doubt, Glinda put her arms around Elphaba's now violently trembling form, pulling her tight against her own body, trying to stop her shakes. Together they slid down the wall, sinking towards the ground, no sounds but Glinda's breathing and Elphaba's dry sobs. Her eyes were squeezed so tight - to keep from crying?

Upon hitting the ground, Elphaba let out a long, high pitched wail - it sounded as if she cried 'Fiyeeeeroo,' but Glinda took no time to speculate. She pressed the green body even closer to hers and rocked back and forth, whispering softly,

"Elphie, Elphie, shhh…"

Her voice sounded like a peaceful wind blowing in through the trees and although Glinda was terrified, she managed to keep her voice calm; she only faltered when she breathed, air catching at the back of her throat for a second before she managed to force it down. Elphaba suddenly wrapped her arms around Glinda with the air that she was drowning, and Glinda knew she couldn't let go; not now, not ever. 

And then the sobbing stopped, the green body went limp in her arms and the only sound was Glinda's breathing. And then she came crashing down, bursting into tears, sobbing into Elphie's black robes.

When she finally woke up, the room was dark; she and Elphaba still lay in each other's arms. Glinda breathed deeply, looked at the nearly comatose figure pressed so close against her body. She felt comfortable and warm on the floor in the arms of another, a luxury she hadn't experienced in a long time.

Dry tears streaked her cheeks, but Glinda made no move to wipe them away. Instead she reached up and gently ran her hand over Elphaba's head, down that beautiful cascade of black hair that had always been the object of her strongest jealously. Again, and again, she caressed the dark head, not moving anything else, for company if not for warmth.

So they were roomies once again, but so much was different. Glinda did not pretend to ignore Elphaba like the cruel-hearted Galinda had. She hated to remember that she once was that cruel girl that had only helped to alienate the green girl. Back then, Elphaba was nothing more then the green girl because no one would let her get close enough to share even the tiniest smidgeon of information about herself.

Thank goodness she was no longer shallow and ignorant, and that she had grown up to learn about goodness. If not, maybe she and Elphaba would never have become friends, two unlikely friends; Glinda the Good and the Wicked Witch of the West, re-uniting just a few short days before the annual celebration of Oz's lack of wickedness. Irony at it's best.

Finally, the figure in Glinda's arms stirred, eyelids fluttering open, darting around and then shutting again. She breathed in deeply and let it out slowly; Glinda was about to whisper a soft good morning when the other woman surprised her, with what sounded like much effort, and spoke first.

"I waited under the floors for hours, days, for Fiyero. He…he finally came, and we left. Can't leave Oz, but can't stay in it." Her eyes opened, but they stared blankly at the floor, looking glassy and unfocused. Glinda thought her merely babbling, since Fiyero had long since been killed to save Elphaba. "The desert, we stayed there, but together. No one found us, until a storm," Her throat closed up, she shut her eyes and her lips and looked terribly troubled.

"Elphie, what are you saying? Fiyero was dead before that little girl was supposed to have killed you." Glinda found her own eyes filling with tears.

A trembling, green hand came up as the other woman spoke again. "The storm…burned - him. But he wouldn't die." Elphaba's voice now trembled like her hand. She shook her head when Glinda tried to comfort her. "He wouldn't die, and so he burned."

She bowed her head against the wall and her shoulders shook. At her request, Glinda did not touch her, but she sat beside her still on the floor, letting Elphaba's words sink in. Had she, somehow, managed to save Fiyero and run away with him? She did have that broom to fly on, but wasn't it only large enough for one body?

All she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and disappear, sob until her tear ducts dried out and reappear to a world where nothing was wrong. But Elphaba needed her, more then ever, sobbing against the wall.

Outside, Glinda could hear the parties in the streets. Emerald City's citizens, all raving drunk, sand and danced each to their own beat and tune. No one was out of rhythm, not even she and Elphaba. Though sober and sobbing, they, too, had something beautiful between them. It was a thin bond of trust that would not be broken, however thin it may appear, for things are never as they appear.


	4. Fear and Loving

Collecting You

By gypsylemon

Author's Note: Yes, I know there's also a book, which I read, but this fic takes place at the end of the Broadway play. Even so, it adopts many aspects from the book, so in a way it's a crossover/AU.

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me except the ideas.

Chapter 4: Fear and Loving

When Elphaba first woke, disoriented as always after a long sleep, she feared the pillow beneath her head had turned to stone until she opened her eyes and saw that she was lying on the floor. Glinda lay a few inches away from her, sprawled out like a rag doll on the smooth marble. She looked completely still, like she had been shot down and lay just where she had fallen. She looked dead.

Elphaba's heart sped up as she pulled herself into a sitting position and crawled across the floor to Glinda's still form. Her breathing grew more labored, she took the other woman's hand in hers and tried hard not to notice such a great contrast in their skin tones; green skin the color of mold next to a small white hand, delicate and beautiful as porcelain.

"Glinda." She tried to whisper, feeling her throat close and a painful feeling rise in her stomach. "Glinda?"

Instead of feeling warm like human flesh, they felt like ashes, the ashes of Fiyero. They were still hot from the inferno, the walls turned to flames, and smoke clouded the air. Elphaba could only watch in terror as the world around her was rapidly becoming her past. She felt the scars on her body bursting open with new burns as fire danced around her, and all she could do was whisper her very first word over and over again, "Horrors…"

No, Glinda wasn't dead, she couldn't. How? She was not like Fiyero, Elphaba had not yet tried to save her, for everyone whom she had tried to save ended up dead. All her attempts ended in failure; but she didn't kill Glinda. Glinda had been helping her, not the other way around. Someone had followed her, then. Someone must know she's there. She had to go, but she couldn't just…leave. She was being pulled in too many different directions, and how was it that Glinda was dead? It was a trick, she thought, someone trying to trick her into leaving the apartment and walking right into a trap. They would kill her, but Glinda…they had killed her too. The horror of it all sank in, and her mind reeled and her vision went black.

She fell forward in a faint, but the shock of hitting the floor brought her back to consciousness. Her heart threatened to burst from inside of her, it was beating so fast. Her throat and lungs sabotaged her quest for life and she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She pulled herself closer to Glinda, took the small woman's shoulders and shook her corpse in one last, feeble attempt to prove that she hadn't gone completely mad.

But the corpse tensed beneath her hands and moved at its own will. Glinda sat up and immediately saw something was wrong. "Elphaba, what is it?" But Elphaba was beyond answering. She looked shocked, as if she had seen far worse then just any ghost; the ghost of her only friend. Green hands came to Glinda's cheeks ever so gently, then arms wrapped themselves around the blonde's small frame and held her close. It felt like she would never let go.

Glinda returned the hug, still very confused. Again she asked Elphaba and this time she got an answer. "You were dead." She whispered, almost afraid if she spoke the words they would come true. "You were dead like him but you came back."

"I'm alright, it's ok." The words left the petite woman's mouth without thinking, because although she did not know whether things were ok, she knew they soon will be. Since Elphie's return, there had to be hope for the future to get through a day; even if it was just false hope, it was still hope all the same.

Elphaba pulled away then, and drew in a shaky breath, letting her arms drop to her sides. She pursed her lips and shuddered and her words came as a surprise in context and the emotions they initiated; "I love you like I love him, Glinda." The two of them were sitting near each other, so there was not much space to close between their mouths.

It was Elphaba's green lips that found Glinda's, and the instant they connected sparked a strange feeling, an exhilaration the blonde had yet to experience before.

As though she were trying to extract Glinda's soul with her lips so that she could possibly have some of it for her own soulless self, her kiss was sudden and full of need. They sat on the floor, lips together, until time seemed to come to a standstill, and though no exchange of souls came out of it, there was an exchange all the same.

For half a second, Glinda felt like she was kissing Fiyero again, but she banished the thought just as quickly as it had come. It was Elphaba, the beautiful soliloquy of a woman that Glinda always wanted to be close to. It was only now that she truly recognized the feeling, as well as the other woman's true needs. They needed each other. Like two halves of a whole, they needed each other.

Her pale hand rose on it's own will, slowly, reluctant at first, and came down on Elphaba's head, brushing black tangled hair away from their faces. The woman's green cheek was its next location, fingers reaching for her neck. Elphaba wrapped one arm around Glinda's back and held her closer then comfort would allow - for then, at least - but Glinda didn't resist. She couldn't resist even if she tried. It was too soon to realize just what she was doing, but it was far too late to care. Or Stop.

"Elphie, I don't know how," Glinda spoke between kisses, "how you loved him, but I can only guess, it was so much. I, too, love you, like you love him."

This spawned their longest, fiercest, most passionate kiss.

But stop they did, for their lungs had grown aggravated with the lack of breathing and rebelled on both women. They stopped for then, but had no intentions of ever stopping for good.

Later that day they sat on a spacious couch, curled up so close that they didn't take up even half the space of one cushion. Elphaba held Glinda in her arms and remembered what it felt like to hold, while Glinda told Elphaba stories of old friends, reminding her what it felt like to gossip.

"Shenshen went off to marry into money, I'm certain." Glinda said, reaching to the farthest corners of her mind for information on this particularly superficial acquaintance.

A smirk pulled at the left corner of Elphaba's mouth and she said, "It would be very unlike her to marry into anything but that."

"Now don't be that way. She can't help it; she was born into money and will most likely die in money as well."

"I was born into money. You can't say you haven't ever seen the Colwen Grounds in their full glory. I resisted," Elphaba's smirk faded as she came to a more serious subject, but she spoke almost dismissively of the memory, "but my parents never acted as though I was their child anyways, so there was a reason behind my poverty."

The thought of having an unloving family struck a chord deep inside Glinda and somehow wished, for an instant, to be the mother Elphaba never had. "I'm sure they loved you." She said, trying to raise the green woman's spirits.

"I'm sure you're only saying that to comfort me," and although it was indeed true, Elphaba's spirits were never low - nor were they ever high, but for once she felt good; she acted as if her family was a part of another life of hers, a life that she had long since moved on from. "But do tell me more, my absence has been impeccable in losing track of all life but my own. Maybe even my own, some of it." She added.

Glinda smiled as her friend mocked herself and snuggled closer to the warmth of her body. "Well, Master Boq has married Miss Milla, as you may know."

"Yes, I've had the opportunity of meeting them."

"And all their children." Glinda triumphed in finding she had brought a smile to those green lips. "What else is there to tell?"

She lay in Elphaba's arms for so long, she had almost forgotten who she was, for it felt like her arms were permanently connected to her skin. It was as if the green had glued itself to her body to form one creature, two souls - one definite, one questionable - coming together to create a single bit of life.

In the crowded mess of yesterday's festivities, no two hearts beat stronger for each other.


	5. The Beauty of False Sanity

Collecting You

By gypsylemon

Rating: This chapter more then just flirts with NC-17, so let's leave it at R-C-17. If that makes any sense at all…*shakes head*

Author's Note: Yes, I know there's also a book, which I read, but this fic takes place at the end of the Broadway play. Even so, it adopts many aspects from the book, so in a way it's a crossover/AU. Katie/DS/whatever your ff.net account is: I LOVE YOU! I couldn't have done this chapter without you. Don't forget the oral, mustn't forget the oral! ;)

Sorry this one took so long. I was having some difficulties with phrases, ideas and words. Basically, it was a hard chapter to write.

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me except the ideas.

Chapter 5: The Beauty of False Sanity

Glinda lay in bed with Elphaba beside her; she hadn't slept in her own bed for a few days, since her guest had arrived and needed her time, help and attention. Of course, Glinda the Good couldn't ever imagine saying no to Elphie, so she had given all she could. Even her love, more then just a friend's love.

All that she had done seemed to have magical effects on the green woman, and although she was still always hurting, she was also healing, little by little, day by day. Lurline only knew what those dark eyes saw, only Glinda knew Elphaba saw more of the world then what was actually there sometimes. But she did not wake up terrified beyond speech anymore. No doubt nightmares still plagued her, but maybe now she had come to distinguish them from reality.

Earlier that day, Elphaba gave Glinda permission to brush her thickly matted hair, and although it took over an hour the two had no other engagements to speak of, so they sat and spoke again of their past, bringing up memories, stopping every so often when the green woman flinched beneath Glinda's touch.

Now her hair lay on the pillow, sheer and cascading like a chocolate waterfall. Glinda had run her fingers through it more times then she could count, letting it slip through her fingers like silk. She had always envied Elphaba's talent and ambition most of all, but her beautiful hair was always a fair rival.

Without much difficulty, Glinda fell into a dreamless sleep that seemed to last only for a few seconds before something woke her suddenly. Until her sleepy vision un blurred, she was just a green cloud hovering above her body; that cloud turned into the beauty of Elphaba as her vision cleared. She was naked, and her green body shocked Glinda by resembling a battlefield more than it resembled a human.

It was an array of scars, bruises and half-healed cuts that had closed up around clots of dried blood in all shapes and sizes. There wasn't any more then an inch of clean flesh in one part of her; she looked as if her body was a plain that had been bombed, as if a war had waged across her flesh.

"How did this happen to you? Elphie…" Each scar seemed to imprint itself onto Glinda's flesh, scarring her as well, causing her pain. Although it was nowhere near the pain that Elphaba had obviously gone through, it hurt the smaller woman enough to wish for something she could have done, or could still do.

"They're not hurting now," Green lips said only this, and then there was a moment of silence; this was nothing new. Delicately, fearing her touch would cause old wounds to open once again, Glinda lay the palm of her hand flat on the spot just between Elphaba's breasts, over one particular wound; she felt her heart beating beneath her fingers.

She flinched, suddenly realizing what she was doing and almost pulled her hand away, had Elphaba's hand not come up over hers. "I want to," Glinda spoke softly, apologetically, and turned her head to the side. "I just…can't."

"You can." Elphaba encouraged, slowly pulling Glinda's hand down her front. "I want it too."

Glinda was not sure what she wanted, but when Elphaba's green hand moved her pale one even further down her body, and her dark lips came down on her light ones, there was nothing else the blonde _could _have wanted more. Soon, both of Elphaba's hands were on Glinda, whose own hand was free to explore on its own. Their lips were still together, and tongues met for the very first time.

Glinda's hand hesitantly made its way down to Elphaba's slim inner thighs. They were tense, but there was hardly ever a moment where the green woman was relaxed. How could she? Maybe this might help - Elphaba pulled back and Glinda sat up for a moment to remove her nightgown, before lips met again and both of her hands slid around green hips. She rubbed her fingers in circles, applying some pressure, something she thought would feel good.

One of Elphaba's arms wrapped around Glinda's back to keep her from falling back, to keep their bodies together, while her other hand came to Glinda's breast. This caused her to jump a little, but they were so deep into their kiss the other woman didn't notice. The pleasure overcame the strange feeling and there was no resistance between either of them anymore. Just passion.

With one hand firmly pressed against Glinda's breast, Elphaba slid her other hand further down Glinda's back, which arched beneath her palm and fingertips. Still their lips would not part, and their ragged breathing was the only sound that filled the air. 

Then Elphaba pulled away from her, hands receding from her body. Glinda tried to sit up but the other woman pushed her back down with one hand, the other moving her legs apart. The blonde lay silent at Elphaba's mercy, looking at the ceiling when she felt Elphaba's tongue between her legs. She tensed, eyes darting, fists clenched, and she cried out, but Elphaba's hand was still firmly pressing down on her abdomen. Her other hand came up too, and each found a hip to touch.

This was nothing Glinda had ever felt before, and she wasn't sure whether to be terrified or to welcome such a rush of emotions. Her eyes filled with tears as an incredible rush was building in the pit of her stomach. Her breath caught at the back of her throat and she could do nothing but let herself be taken. 

Never had she been touched like this by a man. After all, she was Glinda the Good, a public figure of hope and celebration, and no man could ever treat her with anything but kindness and respect. She was respected, but not loved. Now she was loved with such a fierce passion, by a woman whom she loved in return; the transition was mind boggling.

No doubt Elphaba knew what she was doing; it was ironic how a woman who hardly had any happiness to speak of knew just how to give another more pleasure then Glinda thought possible. She shuddered, and moaned, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She felt the feeling growing, closer to her breaking point each second. Her breathing was ragged, and she let out something like a cry or a moan, she couldn't hear; her ears were filled with the sound of rushing water and drum beats, and she couldn't think about anything other then that instant.

Closer…"Elphie," She whimpered and bit her lip in an effort to brace herself for when it felt like she would surely explode. Glinda writhed beneath green hands.

Glinda was already helpless, and Elphaba was free do to her will. Glinda loved her but right now she was terrified. There was nothing that could have filled her empty life like her old friend did, but right now Elphaba filled much more. She wanted it to feel good, but this was just too -

-her thoughts stopped abruptly, exploding with her world; she screamed and squeezed her eyes shut, fell back against the bed. Elphaba came up then, and sat with her legs apart, just above Glinda's stomach. She bent forward and kissed Glinda softly on her lips, then down her chin, her throat, her neck, over the collarbone and finding her right breast to stop at. Each kiss left a legacy on her skin.

Her lips were warm as they encircled Glinda's nipple, leaving a ring of saliva when they retreated; still in shock from what had just happened, Glinda could do nothing but lie there, lost in pain and fear but too absorbed in the pleasure to try to find her way out. Elphaba's tongue re-traced the pattern on Glinda's breast.

This was wrong. The snob that had all but disappeared from Glinda's being came storming back in so suddenly, apparently furious at what had become of its host during its absence. A few more tears slipped down her cheeks, and this time she wiped them away. Here she was, lying in bed, making love to a dead woman, dead to all of Oz but her. And now Glinda had just died with Elphaba, melted with the Witch. Fear returned to her as well; she didn't want to die.

"El-Elphie," Glinda struggled with the getting the name past her lips, "I think…you have to stop. I don't-I can't…"

Although those green lips withdrew, Elphaba spoke no words, nor did she even show any signs of hearing. Glinda's soft, pale skin was darkening before her eyes; blue diamonds rose from nothing and imprinted themselves on Glinda's flesh. Her eyes roved up and down this new body before her in disbelief, and her hand poised just above it as if afraid to touch.

Elphaba moved her hand a little closer, then stopped in her tracks, unsure of whether to stop or keep moving, advance or retreat. She wiped her left eye with the back of her hand, then swooped down like an owl to a mouse with even more of a passion then she had just previously exerted.. It was then that she changed, and she was no longer making love to Glinda; She was making love to Fiyero.

Glinda noticed this change in Elphaba the moment Elphaba's lips came crashing down on hers. "Fiyero," The green woman breathed between kisses, "my hero." She had spoken clear enough so that Glinda did not need to wonder if she was just hearing things, and Elphaba repeated the name of her dead lover once again.

She knew every inch of Fiyero so well, she shut her eyes, pinning the body beneath her to the bed. One hand slipped downwards while the other was around Fiyero's neck. He would leave her if she let him go! She couldn't let him leave again, and her nails grated across the skin.

Glinda felt a pain at the back of her neck and let out a yelp, trying to pull away. But Elphaba was too strong, and she was stuck. "Elphaba, what are you doing?"

Her question was ignored. Elphaba seemed to be sobbing without tears now, repeating "Fiyero, I love you," like a broken record, and the small woman beneath her was trapped in a green cage. The hand left her neck and came across her breast, trailing blood in its wake. Green hips thrust against hers, dark eyes were looking at something that wasn't even there.

"No, stop." Glinda said, putting her hands on Elphaba's shoulders and tried to push her off. "Please, I'm done." Her voice pitch tightened and she began to panic. When Elphaba's fingers slipped inside of her, she screamed as an explosion of pain coursed through her body; it progressed into sobs that Elphaba could not hear.

"Stop it! Elphaba, stop!"

Nails bit deeper into her flesh, and Elphaba's teeth took hold of her lip. She was still inside, and the pain grew as she went deeper. "Fiyero, I love you," Elphaba moaned through her lips. "Don't leave again." Her hips rocked hard against Glinda's, surging with newfound strength and power.

Glinda was sobbing, yelling, trying to fight a losing battle; She was drenched with sweat, and just below her waist felt like a bomb had gone off and ripped her to shreds. As Elphaba's lips came down on hers again, she wrenched her head away.

The looks of relief, passion and love, above all, fled from Elphaba's face without a trace left behind; The green woman froze, pupils dilating, her lips parted in the shape they made just before they met other lips. Her chest heaved, up and down, gasping for breath, and the suddenly, as if Glinda were made of water, Elphaba removed herself from her body.

As soon as she was free, Glinda scrambled away from Elphaba, pressing herself up against the headboard of the bed, still crying uncontrollably.

Elphaba looked as if her brain was struggling for memories; Glinda? She's hurt, scared crying, who hurt her? Naked, who did it? What was it, why-?

Beyond shocked, ashamed, hurt, her green hands flew up to cover her face, and she leaped off the bed, disappearing from the room as fast as lightening.

Glinda curled up beneath the bed's stained top sheet and cried, unable to stop, terrified beyond belief. Her small body shook with harsh sobs; She wanted to curl around herself and stop all the pain, the suffering, the fear, but all she could do was squeeze her eyes shut and cry.

Pressed into a corner, head on her knees, Elphaba did the same.


	6. Into Other Arms

Collecting You

By gypsylemon

Rating: R

Author's Note: Yes, I know there's also a book, which I read, but this fic takes place at the end of the Broadway play. Even so, it adopts many aspects from the book, so in a way it's a crossover/AU.

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me except the ideas.

Chapter 6: 

She had slipped into the night unnoticed; gloves and an almost veil-like hood further hid her from eyes on the outside looking in, eyes that might catch her and give her away. She had gone the same way she had come, sneaking through alleys, ducking behind dumpsters and corners to avoid people; only now, she did all this much faster, with no sense of where she was going. All Elphaba knew was that she had to leave without delay, and that she could not be seen.

The shock of learning what she had done had not yet died down. It pushed her forward, screaming in her ears and flashing pictures before her eyes. She saw Glinda, wide eyes staring up at her, terrified. Glinda, begging her to stop, never getting any peace. Glinda, hurt by the woman she called her friend causing a pain so raw and inhumanly cruel; Glinda, screaming and crying, struggling to get away from her; The fear in her eyes.

Elphaba did the math; it was Glinda's apartment, so she left instead. After all, had she stayed, she would have been suffocated by her haunting betrayal that hung in the air, making everything around her impure and as painful as water.

But what scared her the most was how she could not control her own mind. She was making love to Fiyero, and it didn't seem as if anything at all was wrong, but then it was Glinda - nothing was how it seemed. Instead of it being pleasant and sweet it had been rough and harsh.

For Glinda's own sake, Elphaba made the decision to leave. To save her friend, she had to get away from her, because she now knew that her own state of being was not to be trusted. But she was just a green woman, one that no one _ever _trusted; it seemed as if all of Oz was just waiting for Elphaba to stop trusting herself and join the rest of them in their racism and loathing.

The posters and scenery surrounding her reminded her she was not just hated for her color, now, but for her wickedness. Her melting was a nationally celebrated holiday; they had parades held in her name, although now they were all over and done with, giving Elphaba a clearer escape route then what she had arrived on.

Then again, upon her arrival she had been in such a dire condition that she could have walked right passed a parade with her green skin fully exposed and not do a thing about it.

Her steps were quick, often stumbling on pieces of garbage that littered the streets from the festivities. Images in her head swirled about, forming more images of a hurt and frightened Glinda, a Glinda that wants nothing more then to have Elphaba out of her life; they urged her to move even faster, but fears of being singled out by unseen eyes kept her pace steady and inconspicuous.

Gloves covered her green hands, her arms were sheathed in a itchy, dark gray coat from the back of Glinda's closet, and her hair covered much of her face where the hood could not reach. Now, all she had to do was keep her head down, her eyes trained on the road and her mouth shut, and she was bound to make it safely away from Glinda; she couldn't trust herself any longer in such close quarters to one she could hurt so badly.

Fear gnawed at the back of her mind and the pit of her stomach; she wondered what would become of her if she was discovered, but only briefly, for her thoughts constantly jumped back to her blonde, beautiful friend who was now destined to be as distant and dead as everyone else Elphaba dared to love; Elphaba's love was a curse, and for her to love was to condemn.

She felt like the Wizard, whose love for power had risen him to the level of a dictator of an entire world. Now he had run away from his mistakes, just as Elphaba had, and just for a moment, she wondered where he had disappeared to and how she could get there.

Fear and paranoia and self-hatred coursed through her veins, some voices telling her to run, others telling her to stay unnoticed. Elphaba's limbs twitched in confused as two rivals battled for control inside of her. The cold beat upon her relentlessly, icy winds encircling her small body, lost in a maze of towering green buildings, but she paid none of this any mind for there was worse, there was always a worse situation she had been in.

Turning a corner, the sound of voices pricked in her ears, slurred, blurry voices coated with intoxication. Elphaba kept her head low and hoped to go unnoticed, but her hopes were dashed to bits.

Elphaba did not know this, but each year when Oz celebrated her death, some citizens would paint their faces green, dress in black and walk through the streets in a masquerade, as if they were the Wicked Witch herself. It was just a game, done for fun and amusement, imprinting itself on Oz's past as a new tradition. But this tradition of dress-up was not the driest way to celebrate, for it rewarded those in green paint with a splash of water from onlookers.

There was not a soul who did not know of how the Witch died. The small child, Dorothy, had tossed a bucket of water on her hideous, green form, thus burning and melting her; a messy demise. For fun, this tradition was one to be kept alive.

The drunks laughed and roared as if they would pass out the next instant, but surprisingly enough there was one soul sober enough to be drinking water. They lent their glass to the cause of preserving tradition and, with a chorus of laughter, splashed it at the green woman in costume that walked by at a quick pace.

With a short-lived, catlike grace, almost as if she had heard the water screaming "make way," the green woman dove to the left to avoid the main blast of wetness. But some of it caught her on the side of her face and she let out a restrained cry as she stumbled and fell to her knees. She bent over the stone road, immediately bringing the collar of her coat to her face, shaking with pain and fear and maybe even rage.

Of course alcohol tends to blur the senses, making pain a difficult emotion to read upon a face, so the onlookers and the splasher bursts out in rounds of new laughter, some even putting down their glasses to clap - they thought this green woman was an actress!

As she rested, bent and twisted in agony on the road, one of the drunks jogged forward, took hold of her forearm and began dragging her to the bar. "A drink for the actress!" He demanded to anyone that would listen or hear. He pushed Elphaba down into a chair, and she landed where she fell, all her energy put into trying to fight off the pain, trying not to scream.

When she emitted a whimper through clamped lips, a hand came to slap her on the back. "Don't worry, luv. Drink's coming!" Elphaba moaned in pain and clutched at the burning part of her face with gloved hands as laughter encircled her once more.

"Funny actress." One man observed, sticking his face close to Elphaba's as if to examine her when really he could see nothing but a green blur. His breath was stale and slipped through Elphie's nostrils. She turned her head away. He lifted a thumb to her face and slid it across her cheek. "Paint's not comin' off. Might be some pretty thing underneath it all." Elphaba tried to pull away, but his hand came down on her face, rubbing harder.

"We got ourselves the Witch!" A small group sang tunelessly. "Ding dong, she ain't dead yet!" The laughed and stumbled into each other in a dizzy sort of dance, tripping over stones and chairs and their own feet. Elphaba struggled for leverage, but someone kept pushing her back down into the chair.

And then someone else came in, wearing a uniform of rich green cloth with a gilded pattern along the front; Elphaba caught it sparkling out of the corner of her eye, still nursing the side of her face that burned like a raging inferno. Strong hands gripped her shoulders and hauled her out of the chair.

A thumb pressed against her cheek and rubbed downwards, pulling at the skin below her eye. Frustrated, the guard repeated this act a few more times before checking the tip of his finger for any paint. There was none to speak of. He turned her head to the side that had been splashed with water, examining it closely; the skin was turning a darker, blacker green, as if the flesh was being burned.

The guard studied her closer before his lips cracked into a menacing smile; his hands left Elphie's face and came to his rifle. "You've been hiding from us, haven't you."

Elphaba had no time to flee; the guard swung the rifle forward, slamming it into the side of her head.

Stars exploded before Elphaba's eyes and she fell forward. The pain was amazing, as if her head was splitting open from where it had been struck. She was about to black out when a steel-toed boot connected with her stomach, and bile rose in her throat. Her knees instinctively curled up around the hurt, arms coming to her head, too afraid too touch yet too concerned to ignore.

The guard aimed another kick at her stomach and a cry wrung itself from Elphaba's throat. She felt the warm trickle of blood washing down her face before the dancing spots that obscured her vision enlarged and turned dark, turned off the sound, turned off the pain. For a little while.


	7. New Ends

Collecting You

By gypsylemon

Rating: R

Author's Note: Yes, I know there's also a book, which I read, but this fic takes place at the end of the Broadway play. Even so, it adopts many aspects from the book, so in a way it's a crossover/AU.

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me except the ideas.

Chapter 7: New Ends and Old Friends

Glinda woke with a yelp, not realizing she had fallen asleep until she remembered the nightmares that had plagued her and chased away the peace that was always just out of reach. Her eyes were puffy and blurry and stung as new tears spilled out. The room was dark, it was still late; she was tangled up in dirty sheets that smelled, to her, like…like sex. This caused her to cry harder, letting out a wail as pain from what had happened rose to the surface in full force.

She wrapper her arms around herself and bit her lower lip as it trembled so, but naught could calm her raging nerves. Her breathing came in short hiccups between sniffles and sobs.

Elphaba had hurt her. Her best and truest friend had come seeking salvation and had only betrayed Glinda in the end. She felt a fool to let the green woman in, the night she showed up at her door. All Glinda had thought of her was that she had been troubled, tormented, haunted, but never insane.

"Crazy…bitch…" Glinda sobbed into her hands, not caring if Elphaba heard anything. She was going to get out of bed and make her leave. Give her nothing but what she came with and make her leave. Elphaba had hurt her, and more then just once. Leaving everyone to think her dead after that cursed Dorothy came around was hard enough. The first time was to save her life; The second time was intentional.

Glinda had never felt more pain then what Elphaba had done, and she couldn't have any more. Elphaba had to be gone, and she would never be allowed back. Glinda knew she would surely go mad herself if she ever saw that green woman again.

With a suppressed cry as pain flared below her waist, she pulled herself out of bed, sought her nightgown and pulled it on over her head. Terrified of having to face Elphaba again, she slowly made her way out of the bedroom. The main hallway was empty, as was the kitchen, dining room, bathroom and living room; Elphaba was gone.

She sank down into a couch, unsure whether to laugh with relief that her horrible green plague had finally ceased or cry because she was alone again.

It ended up that Glinda did neither of the two; She was still a major public figure. She never needed to be lonely if she didn't want to be. She would go out for the first time in too long, and she would meet people and talk and enjoy herself. She would not keep herself locked up like a ghost any longer.

Blood rose in the back of Elphaba's throat, choking her. The stone floor beneath her sparkled with it after each hacking cough that stretched her injured body further and caused even more pain. She clutched her chest and struggled to keep from vomiting.

She didn't know where she was; the suspecting guard knew who she was, so there was nothing more to do but let time pass. At least they had stopped hitting her now. At least they still had some humanity left in them to give her a break, let her catch her breath, before they came back to do it again.

Breathing and thinking were growing difficult with the wound on her head throbbing and aching and blinding her with the most terrible pain she had felt. Blood coursed over her lips and down her chin, dripping onto the stones below. Seeing was also a losing battle. There was blood in her eyes and each time she tried to wipe it away, it would always leak back, as if from a broken pipe.

Once Elphaba had realized she was in captivity, she tried to fight. She managed to get a few good hits in before the pain had become unbearable and she sagged against a wall, leaving herself wide open for the beating. And beat her they did. Nobody knew what to do with her just yet, but the guards beat her like she was a wild Animal, screaming curses at her, knocking her down and laughing as she struggled.

The insults stopped and the fists, boots and hard, yet unrecognizable objects withdrew from Elphaba's broken form. She had collapsed on the hard floor; finding no strength to move. There she remained, enveloped in pain, listening to the two soldier's voices echo down the hall.

"I told you it helps relax the nerves." The scrape of metal on metal; a key locking a door.

"_My_ nerves, at least. Can't say the same thing for her, eh?."

Laughter.

"What'll we do with her?"

"This is history, man. The Wicked Witch of the West…and you found her in the middle 'o nowhere. Unbelievable."

"Meant to be." A chuckle. "But what's gonna happen?"

"We can just keep beatin' her till she dies. Relaxing, you say."

"But that's no fun after a while. Won't turn her in to no heads or bosses, not yet."

  
"They'll be all over her like flies."

"From the looks of it, greenie seems used to that." He laughs at his own joke. "We could make money off this. The whole country was after this devil at one point. No use ruinin' it all now."

"Sell 'er blood. She's wicked and all, everyone would want some."

"Are you mad? Her blood!"

"Hold a stupendiferous presentation, like a celebration, a holiday. Bring in tourists, kill 'er and sell 'er blood."

A pause.

"How much is it gonna bring in?"

"Who knows? Slit her throat, then sell it by the quart."

"By the quart, are you daft? We'd make a whole bit of nothing out of that. Pints, then."  


"I drink a pint of ale each night at the tavern; no, pints are too big."

"Ounces then?" A pause. "We'll bleed it into little jars."  


"Like a lady's perfume." Laughter.

"Best not let her bleed so much now. You're letting our profit go to waste, you pinhead!"

"She'll make more of it."  


"She's bleedin' all over the place, there it goes."

"Oh, sod off."

If it hadn't been restricted to mere shades of green, the architecture of Emerald City might have been the most colorful in all of Oz. No doubt the colors would have reflected on the building's owners and purposes; Blue for offices, reds and purples for the theaters, yellow for schools, lazy shades of gray for community events and the usual emerald, or white, for residence. So it had been in the Pertha Hills, though Glinda's birthplace was much more expansive, with only little clusters of color spread out across the green and gold rolling hills.

But it was still stuck with green as the foremost color, grass in the hills instead of the buildings of the city. No, come to think of it, Pertha was more blue then anything else. In the Pertha Hills, the sky lay like a blanket over everything; no building was tall enough to block it out, and it spread eternally into the distance.

As a child, G_a_linda had been told the story of the sky's end countless times, so many times that she could still hear the voice of the old crone that had fascinated her with the tale long before. She often did this during the long days locked inside her luxurious apartment, alone.

But now, instead of trapped inside walls high above the streets, she had ventured outside once again. Dressing up in a stunning yet slightly casual dress that she did not even remember purchasing, Glinda always turned heads wherever she went. She pulled a light shawl around her shoulders to shield her from the wind that slipped through the maze of emerald buildings as if it's soul purpose was to make her life less comfortable.

She stopped in a little café that looked cozy enough; she ordered a tea from the menu, to warm her up, and relaxed in the cushioned booth that was meant to sit more then just one person. The streets became her main fixation now, with people of all different shapes and sizes, age and gender, clothing ranging from the dirtiest of rags to the latest couture.

The scent of Sourleaf filled her nostrils, the thin smoke snaking out from tips of the plant rolled up in leaves or paper that hung between the lips of a group of bleary-eyed, middle-aged men sitting in a corner booth. What Glinda picked up second hand made her feel strangely lightheaded and relaxed, so she shut her eyes and breathed deeply and welcomed this time to be free of any cares she ever carried.

Despite all her propriety and high class, Glinda yearned to approach the men smoking in the corner and ask to join them, but the company came to her first. It creaked and clanked over to her booth in the form of a man (or was it a tik tok?) made entirely out of slightly rusted, weather-worn tin.

Glinda kept her eyes trained at her mug, pretending the swirling brown liquid was more fascinating then the metallic man before her; staring was rude, after all.

Silver hands came down on the table, and Glinda's tea resembled a brown Lake Chorge during a storm; So she looked up and met equally silver eyes staring at her with an unreadable expression. "May I help you?" She asks politely.

Tin creaked as the man shook his head side to side. "No, thank you, but there's not much I need." His eyes glowed with an odd sort of warmth. "It's just been so long, if you'll excuse my asking; how have you been?"

"Well, I'm fine." Awkwardness took hold of the room like a glove. "Do I know you?"

"Yes, we were," he struggled to find the right wording, unless his jaw hinges were malfunctioning. "we knew each other back at school."

  
"Shiz?"

"Yes."

"Pardon me, but I think I would have clearly recognized you if we were indeed school friends. You don't seem at all familiar."

He sighed sadly through his metal jaw, his structured body all but deflated. "No, I think you do know me, Miss Galinda."

The name caught Glinda off guard; "How do you know that name? No one's called me that-"

"Since Shiz." The tin man finished the sentence for her, "Yes, I know."

"But, if you were, then what - who are you?" Glinda struggled for a memory but could find none. Just a haunting tin smile.

More creaking and groaning issued forth from his limbs as he pulled up a chair and sat down. "Please, tell me your name." Glinda continued, quickly adding, "I mean no offense to you, sir." at the thought of how strong that tin was.

"It's alright," The tin man said. "No one uses it anymore, and you'd never remember it anyways." He smirked.

Glinda's eyes widened at the aspect of this tin man's identity, but how could it be. She smiled warmly and abandoned her tea mug. "Boq." She announced, and he even laughed before considering the other people in the café.

"How are you faring after all these years?" Glinda reached a dainty, gloved hand across the table and rested it over Boq's; The tin was freezing, and she pulled back her hand in alarm. "Why, you're freezing!"

"No, I'm not. No circulation." Boq explained almost mournfully, afraid of what Glinda would expect out of his sudden…change in appearance. But the blonde woman's smile did not falter, nor did her eyes give up their shine that they had once held so many years ago.

"And I am faring, rather differently then anyone would have expected," He said. "At least I'm tall now."

A burst of laughter escaped Glinda's lips before she could clamp them shut and grin. "Oh, Boq, I'm afraid this is all so sudden," She apologized. "But I just can't…can't even remember how you looked."

This hurt Boq, but he had come prepared. He had no heart to love Glinda with, so it could not ever be broken. This sent him through any danger fully protected, although it still hurt to remember who he used to be. "Don't worry, I hardly can either."

At this, Glinda sat back against the cushioned booth, surveying her old friend with a look of delight and utter surprise. "I'm to have some difficulty getting used to this," She admitted finally. "But it is so good to see you."

"Likewise. You are quite difficult to track down."

"Oh, so now you stalked me?"

They both laughed; it sounded beautiful.


	8. Old Friends

Collecting You

By gypsylemon

Rating: R

Author's Note: Yes, I know there's also a book, which I read, but this fic takes place at the end of the Broadway play. Even so, it adopts many aspects from the book, so in a way it's a crossover/AU.

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me except the ideas.

Chapter 8: Old Friends

Boq's tin features were that of amazement when he stepped inside Glinda's luxurious apartment. This was the kind of living one saw in magazines, the kind of living that the majority wished they could take part in. "Well it seems that you've done well for yourself."

Glinda smiled and giggled, hanging her coat up on the rack by the door. "Public figure." She admitted, hoping it would explain everything; Stealing from the deserving Ozians and using to support her own advances. As good as she was, her position forced her into an anti-Robin Hood state.

"If only the people would take a liking to a man made of tin." Boq teased, but there was some truth to his words, and a sense of envy. He came close to adding, "But what should I know of earning people's admirations?" but that would lead Glinda far too close to believing he was still bitter about his ancient infatuation with her. He had long since abandoned the thoughts of previous escapades of spying and garden meet-ups at Shiz.

High heels clicked against the marble floor, a female sound, as Glinda went to the kitchen. "Do you want something? Tea?" She called.

He could not suppress his laughter, and finally managed to stop so he could say "No."

"Then don't mind if I heat up a pot for me."

Her tea obsession fascinated him; she had been drinking a cup when he had found her, ordered a second during their conversation and had now come home to make more! Boq came to the early conclusion that it must be an upscale habit, the need to be polite and lift their pinkies each time they took a sip. Or maybe it was entirely feminine. He wasn't familiar with either of the two, so he said nothing.

"Make yourself at home! Please, don't worry about a thing." Glinda called from the kitchen, so Boq did. The entire apartment reeked with the need to maneuver through it silently, for some unnerving reason, so he moved slowly, so as not to clank about. The apartment boasted femininity and excess money to spend lavishly on endless ways to spoil oneself.

The couches looked fragile, like they would shatter if he looked at them too much. He didn't dare step his dirty feet on the rugs. He feared that touching something would cause it to explode, so he just stood in place, exploring with his eyes.

Glinda clucked her tongue disapprovingly when she returned with a beautiful ceramic mug between her hands. "I told you to sit." She scolded, but forgave him with a warm smile as she sank into a chair. "Sit, let's talk some more."

His joints creaked as he lowered himself onto the couch, ever so gentle, so as not to ruin anything. "For goodness sake, Boq, it's as if you're walking on glass." Glinda noticed with a laugh.

"I…can walk on glass just fine."

"It was a joke."

"Sorry."

"Don't be," Glinda sipped her tea, burned her tongue and nearly dropped the mug. Some of the brown liquid flew from her mouth and stained her gown with ugly, brown splotches. "Damn it!" She then demonstrated her extraordinarily colorful vocabulary as she tried to get the stains off; words, to her misfortune, did not help at all.

"Glinda, it's just a dress. Get another one!" Boq said with a laugh.

She let out a sort of a whimper and she shook her head. "No, this dress was special! It was…" She realized what she was doing, and her childish features molded into an amused grin. "Ridiculous. Losing it over a dress? Shame on me, I've been locked up in here too long."

"I don't believe it. Miss Glinda the social butterfly, finally gone reclusive on us? Sweet Oz. Something's wrong."

Yes, Boq, something is wrong, Glinda thought, but decided against vocalizing. She made a joke instead. "First you get turned into tin, and now this! What is Oz coming to?"  
  
Laughing, she slid her mug across the table so if was further away from her. Her tongue still smarted form the scalding liquid, so she decided it was about time to draw the line on hot beverages. "What brings you to the city? Last I knew, you were with…oh, um, I'm sorry."

It hurt Boq to see Glinda falter with fear of hurting him. He was a heartless tin robot; how could he hurt? But still, he may as well tell her why he had looked her up. It was important, after all.

"I wanted to see the sights."

Glinda raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think you liked the city. Weren't you more of a farmer? My memory is so terrible with things like this - Oh! Do you remember when I used to call you Bic?" She cried out, succumbing to new humor with more laughter.

That name, oh dear it had been too long. Boq shook his head. "Your memory was truly horrible. I'm glad it's improved."

"Who says it has?" A tug at the on of the corners of her mouth, and she winked. "I still can't believe you're really here. So much has happened, everything's so different-"

"So am I." Boq interrupted with dry tone to his voice.

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that." Glinda quickly tried to cover her tracks.

"It's alright, I know I'm a bit of a shock to see, which is why I came here." Glinda tilted her head a little to the side and smiled attractively. Boq took a deep breath and continued, "I remember how I came to be…like this, and you have the only thing that can help me."

She shook her head, "I don't think I know what you mean."

Don't get discouraged, Boq thought, explain it to her. As she said, her memory had never been first-rate. The prospect of bringing up the book worried him, and he remembered the everlasting pain it brought down upon him. "Elphaba made me like this, she put a curse on me when she read something from that book of hers."

Glinda's face fell.

"Glinda, I need you to reverse the spell. I can't live like this; I can't even call it living, really. I exist, nothing more. My family's thought me dead for years."

Come to think of it, Glinda suddenly remembered a frantic letter from Milla, something about Boq, but she had never read close enough to understand what had happened. She wondered if this had been it.

"I remember when you were making your rounds, the day…Elphaba died." This sent an involuntary chill down her spine. "You had her book with you, and if you still have it I need you find a spell that can bring me back."

She was shocked and terrified that he was asking her to do this. If only he knew she couldn't even read from the Grimmerie! Her brain frantically searching for escape routes, Glinda took into consideration the plan of lying to Boq, telling him she had no idea where the book was, or that she had given it up years ago. But she had already stayed silent for too long to make her lie believable.

"Boq, I can't-"

"You can! Yes, please, Glinda, do this for me. I'm not asking you for money or land or anything. I just want to be me again."

Glinda refused continuously, terrified of failure. She had never actually come to terms with her lack of magic skills, but now that a life was on the line it scared her into thinking reasonably. Boq shrugged petulantly and left without a goodbye.

In a dark corner of her cell, Elphaba thought that if she ever had any faith, she would have lost it a long time ago.


End file.
